


A Moment Of Your Time

by AKMars



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKMars/pseuds/AKMars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an invasion happening in NYC, even Finch isn't immune.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment Of Your Time

Title: A Moment of Your Time  
Rating: PG  
Character: Harold Finch  
Word Count: 529  
NOTES: 'Tis the season. 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi** 　

 

They were back. The onset of colder weather had brought them out of hiding...out of the dark places they disappeared to during the warmth and brightness of summer. With the shortening of the days, they emerged into the open; becoming bolder than ever.

Finch didn't consider himself petty or vindictive but this _pestilential_ invasion of his city was wearing on his patience. He could see them skulking in his peripheral vision, on the corners, indiscriminate in their choice of targets. The vermin had even accosted him on more than one occasion. 

At last the recluse reached the library, sloughing off his coat and placing it on the hat tree; wishing that he could just as easily rid himself of the sense of contamination the plague vectors caused him to feel. Harold brewed a fresh cup of tea and settled at his workstation. He brought his computers online, taking a few moments to access Harold Wren's email account and do some minor housekeeping.

_What the?!_

Finch came closer to spitting tea on his keyboard than he ever had in his life. His pale eyes boggled behind their corrective lenses as he absorbed the horror in front of him. _Oh no....no, no, no. This is the final straw!_

 

His tea sat forgotten as the billionaire's nimble fingers flew over the keys; building strings of elegant code designed for only one purpose....to fight the plague that had descended upon him. _This is war and the only way to win it is through 'shock and awe'._

 

Finch's lips thinned as he continued to create his weapon out of ones, zeros and the sheer force of his will. After a tense half-hour, Harold's fingers stilled and he let his hands fall to his sides. He took a deep breath, releasing it as a sense of smug satisfaction permeated his soul. It was done. He'd not wanted to have to take his fight to this level but they had given him no choice. The vermin had come to him, pushed him and he had pushed back....hard. Finch picked up his tea and savored the soothing warmth of the beverage. All he had to do now is wait.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

　

_November 7, 2012_

_"Ladies and gentlemen the official results are in.......the new President of the United States is, Bill Gates?! George is this right? Bill Gates?"_

Finch switched off the radio, turning to a metal wastebasket he'd stuffed with circulars, handbills, pamphlets and cardstock doorhangers. The recluse struck a wooden safety match to life, tossing it in the small receptacle. The assortment of paper advertisements quickly ignited and dancing flames reflected on the square lenses of Harold's glasses. His lips curled up in a smile of quiet triumph. His patience had been rewarded infinitely and he watched the can of political endorsements burn; each candidate's well-groomed, artificially enhanced portrait disintegrating with satisfying rapidity. 

Oh his programmed 'glitch' would clear itself up in another twelve hours; the actual election results suddenly become available and life would continue. _But_ , for the next day he, Harold Finch, had proven himself the ultimate campaign worker....putting all others to shame.

 

NOTES: This is the result of one too many phone calls, doorbell rings and "I just need a moment of your time!" encounters on the street.


End file.
